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<title>Shower = Dissociaton Chamber by Luna_Leclair (Moonluster)</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29532735">Shower = Dissociaton Chamber</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonluster/pseuds/Luna_Leclair'>Luna_Leclair (Moonluster)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anxiety, Borderline Personality Disorder, Depression, Dissociation, Flash Nonfiction, Flash Nonfiction Essay, Language, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Stream of Consciousness</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 18:15:23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>401</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29532735</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonluster/pseuds/Luna_Leclair</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A flash nonfiction essay in which I talk about the hell in my head and what a "dissociation chamber" means.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Shower = Dissociaton Chamber</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Dissociation (psychology): a disconnection between a person's sensory experience, thoughts, sense of self, or personal history. People may feel a sense of unreality and lose their connection to time, place, and identity.</span>
</p><p><span>Dissociation Chamber (n.): a safe space in which to dissociate.</span><span><br/></span> <span><br/></span> <span>The shower is my safe haven. A “dissociation chamber,” as I’ve come to call it, and a term I coined myself. It’s where I can dissociate (obviously) and feel the hot, almost burning water running down my body in peace as I sit in the tub and stare at the textured glass shower doors. The “dissociation chamber” is where I can reflect on my anxieties, worst feelings, painful thoughts, and bad experiences. I’m not sure when this happened, but I find that now, whenever I feel bad, I want a hot shower. </span><span><br/></span> <span>I hear the loud echoes of my voice against the walls, and realizing how thin they are, acknowledge that I’m probably annoying my neighbors because of how long I’ve been running the shower, or that they can probably hear me talking to myself there. They must think I’m crazy. </span><span><br/></span> <span>They think what they’re hearing is crazy? Try being the one who has to deal with it. I’m a mess first and a human second. A mess of a human. </span><span><br/></span> <span>As I reach a hand out through the shower stream, I let the water cascade down my broken, mortal form, and I wonder, </span><em><span>why can’t I be normal?</span></em></p><p><span>The scorching yet comforting waterfall runs over me and I stare at the little pools of droplets all over my pale skin. With a heavy heart, I think: </span><em><span>I get so tired of being crazy, of being emotional. I get tired of telling people that it’s okay, I’m okay, and my brain is a fucked-up mess. I don’t want them to worry. I don’t want to be annoying. I don’t want to hurt anyone.</span></em> <em><span>There’s always that edge of darkness and insanity that won’t let up, no matter how far toward the light I run. ...I want people to see me, and not the monsters I’m made of.</span></em><span><br/></span> <span>All this in mind, I stand and the squeaky gates of water are closed. The coolness of both the small bathroom and reality hits me once more. I’m here. Not there, or anywhere, and I’m stuck in this body and brain of mine until the end</span></p><p>
  <span>How cruel, and yet, how comforting...</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p>
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